


Watering Hole

by htbthomas



Category: Forever (TV), Superman (Christopher Reeve Movies)
Genre: Canon Temporary Character Death, Community: intoabar, Crack Crossover, Crossover, Gen, Humor, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2523980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htbthomas/pseuds/htbthomas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Good,” says Ursa from the bar. “That human was particularly annoying.” Non grunts his assent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watering Hole

**Author's Note:**

> My assignment for [](http://intoabar.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://intoabar.dreamwidth.org/)**intoabar** : "Henry Morgan goes into a bar and meets... General Zod (Superman)!" Just the thought was so cracktastic I couldn't help but be inspired. :)
> 
> Thanks to LadySilver for the quick beta!

The door slams open, revealing a dim interior. A man behind the counter, presumably an employee of the establishment, looks up from where he wipes the counter with a rag. “Careful with that door, buddy, unless you’re gonna pay for it.”

General Dru-Zod, one-time commander of the glorious Kryptonian Army, narrows his eyes. These humans, so ignorant, so weak. Despite Zod and his companions killing numerous members of their species just outside these walls, this pitiful specimen acts as if none of it affects him at all.

Zod turns to his enforcer. “Non.”

Non needs no explanation. He simply walks toward the bar and casually chokes the breath from the man’s body. The bartender slumps over onto the grimy wooden surface before him, without even a cry. The other humans don’t even seem to notice, they are so wrapped up in their own misery. Except one. A female, holding a circular tray against her chest like a makeshift shield. 

She takes a step back at his imperious gaze. Good, one who understands her place. 

“I require refreshment.” 

The female nods briefly and goes behind the counter. A moment later, she has placed a glass of clear liquid on the counter, a suitable distance from her now-deceased co-worker. Before Zod can crook his fingers for her to bring it to him, she is pouring another, this time filled with an amber liquid. Finally, she finishes with a small container of brown.

“I…” She twitches under his disapproving gaze. “I didn’t know what you’d like.”

Zod turns toward Ursa, who is trailing her finger along the bar. A small thread of wood curls after it in her wake. “Test the first for me.”

Ursa flicks her eyes toward him, full of disdain. “Why? Are you afraid that these vermin could possibly hurt you?”

“Of course not.” He indicates for Non to bring the drink to him. Zod is no servant. Despite Ursa’s remark, he takes a careful sip of the clear liquid. It is nearly tasteless, completely bland. Zod downs the glass, frowning, as Non hands him the amber liquid. It’s fizzy, not tasteless, but not pleasant, either. The brown liquid has slightly more bite, but nothing more to recommend it. He gestures toward the wall of bottles behind the human female, who has nearly pressed herself against the shelves. “Is there nothing that will satisfy?”

A voice comes from behind him. “I’m partial to a dry red wine myself, but I doubt you’ll find anything of high quality back there.” Zod swivels on his heel, slowly. A male stands before him, eyes full of interest, clearly unafraid. He holds a small tumbler full of brown liquid as he takes a step forward. “Or perhaps you’d enjoy a mixed drink?”

Zod finds the human’s flippant attitude distasteful. He trains a bright red beam on the human’s glass, superheating it to molten liquid in seconds.

“Ah!” the man cries out, dropping the glass. “That is excruciating!” He sucks air between his teeth and cradles the burned hand in the other. But instead of running, fear on his face, he takes another step forward, eyes filled with… curiosity? “How did you do that? The laser beams. With your eyes? Fascinating! Despite your similar appearance, your physiology must be incredibly different to human beings in order to—”

Zod blasts him through the heart, and the man drops where he stands. 

“Good,” says Ursa from the bar. “That human was particularly annoying.” Non grunts his assent.

Suddenly it seems, the room is filled with screams of humans who have just realized the greatness in their midst. They run for the exits, stumbling over each other like so many insects. The three Kryptonians simply watch, unperturbed.

Zod addresses the female, who has not fled, though her eyes are red with terror. “Give me this… mixed drink.”

The woman snaps to obey. She pours several different drinks, green, brown, even red and blue. “Must they all be so colorful?” Ursa comments.

Non points to a large glass urn filled with black liquid. Zod nods. “I will have that one,” he demands. 

She pours it, and the beverage steams as it goes into the mug.

It is warm and slightly bitter, very pleasant. Perhaps he will give her a quick death as reward. 

The door opens, and Zod turns to see the man he had just killed stumble in, clad in a long garment, hair soaking wet. 

“I should very much like to continue our conversation.” The man rakes a hand through his hair before coming close again. “On the news, they say that you are from the same planet as Superman. How incredible a race you Kryptonians must be.”

Zod glances at the floor for just a moment—the body has disappeared. His emotions instantly run from annoyed to offended to pleased. Then he is angry—how does the man still live? “Who are you?”

“Oh, pardon me. General Zod, is it? My name is Dr. Henry Morgan.” He holds out his hand toward Zod and Zod only glances at it. He lowers it and continues, “I am, you might say, a student of death.”

“Have you been sent by the one called Superman?” Perhaps the Son of El has surrounded himself by minions such as this, beings superior to the common human, but not a threat to a Kryptonian. 

“Superman? Oh, no. I am sure he is a lovely gentleman, but I have not had the pleasure of making his acquaintance.” Henry takes another step toward Zod. “Are you just as invulnerable as he is? As strong? You can fly—the news footage is quite impressive.” He reaches curious fingers toward Zod. “I would love to get a sample of your blood, though I imagine that would be difficult considering that a needle might not be able to pierce your skin…”

Zod takes Henry by the throat—anything to choke off the torrent of words and cease the man’s questing hands. “Silence!” He can feel the man’s pulse quicken beneath his fingers. Finally, some semblance of fear. “No human may touch Zod and live.”

“I didn’t actually—” 

Zod twists Henry’s neck with a vicious snap, and lets the body fall. He bends down to check the pulse. Still, as it should be.

He is no longer thirsty. They have wasted too much time on this detour—it is well-past the time when Kal-El—this ‘Superman’—should meet his doom. “Ursa, Non, come.” He walks out of the bar into the street.

A great crowd of uniformed soldiers stand right outside. Zod sets fire to their clothing and then takes to the air, his lieutenants close behind. As they rise above the crowds, Zod sees that there is a river nearby, and somehow, his telescopic vision picks out a solitary human, climbing out of the waters. He focuses in… it is Henry, naked and unhurt.

“By the fires of Rao!” Zod swears, and swoops downward, leaving Ursa and Non to hover in the sky above. 

As he approaches the man, Henry is pulling a blanket from a knapsack and wrapping it around his shoulders. Henry looks up. “Oh! General Zod, I assure you that I mean no—!”

His words cut off when Zod snatches him from the ground. Whatever special powers he must possess, this man must be destroyed. Zod flies upward, ever higher, far above even the wispy clouds. 

Henry gasps at the height, struggles to breathe in the rarified air of the upper atmosphere. His skin begins to turn blue with cold. Through chattering teeth, he says, “Do you mean to drop me? Though I have never fallen from such a height before—an airline crash in ‘76, 1976, was close—I expect the same result.”

“Which result?”

“I will live to see another day.” He seems almost sad about his conclusion.

Zod, however, is more than happy to get rid of him. He has a task to complete—one of world domination. “I tire of this.”

Henry falls, down through the clouds. Zod follows him down, he will not allow the man to pester him again. He will see him gone, to the bottom of the ocean, if necessary.

Suddenly, a blue and red blur of motion crosses beneath him, and Henry is gone. Another moment later, Kal-El hovers beside him, arms crossed, ridiculous cape flowing in the wind. “Are humans nothing but playthings to you, Zod?”

“ _General_ Zod,” he corrects. “Have you come to offer your fealty?”

Kal-El’s response is a fist to the face.

* * *

Henry stands beside the water for the third time that day. Thanks to Superman, this time he hadn't needed a blanket from the knapsack he’d secreted near the shoreline a few weeks ago, never knowing how much use it would get. 

Above him, the battle of the Kryptonians wages on, Superman meeting the others blow for blow. A slow smile grows on Henry’s face as he watches. “Fascinating!”


End file.
